


Closer to Danger, Further from Harm

by MeganuReeves



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate take on Scarecrow, Base notes of friendship and romance, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Gen, No Smut, Reluctant Flatmates, Some gore and violence descriptions but not too graphic, recovery arc, safehouse, with aromas of angst and fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2019-08-24 01:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16630577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeganuReeves/pseuds/MeganuReeves
Summary: “I am not naïve. I know all the things he has done wrong. But neither am I crazy. Unlike the rest of the world, I know all the things he has done right.” When Evelyn Raven's cruel ex-boyfriend becomes the latest victim of the infamous Scarecrow, she finds herself trapped in an arrangement to fulfil a 'debt' to Jonathan Crane - by helping him finally get out of Arkham for good.





	1. Closure

 

CHAPTER ONE – CLOSURE

 

Stepping through the heavy doors, Evelyn Raven’s headache doubled in an instant. Stark white tiles threw the glare of the neon lights into her eyes without mercy, and the stench of chemical cleanliness grasped and clung at her skin and clothes. It was as if the entire place had been fermented in bleach.

Evelyn stopped for a moment, leaning against an impeccably clean wall in an attempt to settle her dizziness. Her pulse was beating a loud, heavy rhythm behind her eyes, and nausea gripped her stomach. A nudge to her shoulder, perhaps sharper than intended, broke through the growing ache in her temples.

  “I’m afraid I have to hurry you, Miss Raven,” Officer Cash remarked, drumming his fingers against his radio impatiently. “That is, if you still intend to see this through.” The officer made no effort to conceal his disapproval; he firmly believed that this was no place for the young woman to be, but she had insisted. The higher-ups had given their consent, and that was that. He had been assigned to protect her, not to change her mind. Not that it had stopped him trying.

  “Lead the way, officer,” Evelyn replied, voice steady even though her mind was spinning – and not just from her headache. Internally, she fought to steady herself against the familiar pull of anxiety, picking at her fingernails to give her nervous energy an outlet.

She adopted a brisker pace as she followed the officer down corridor after harsh white corridor, trying not to dwell on how each step was bringing her closer to a monster. Instinct told her to turn and run, but her need for closure kept her moving forward.

 

  “This is it.”

Evelyn watched as Officer Cash gestured to the door, the same bleached white as the walls, with its tiny barred window. All that separated her from the monster inside.

A sharp rap of the officer’s knuckles and the door was opened, revealing four figures: two orderlies built like wrestlers, one frazzled-looking doctor, and huddled at the far side of the small room –

  “Tyler…” Evelyn muttered; the name tasted bitter on her tongue.

The trembling mess of a man in the corner – all sickened pallor and bloodshot eyes – could not inspire fear, not anymore. Something new took its place. Was it pity? No, not pity – disgust. Evelyn felt the churning heat of it branch out from the pit of her stomach, nostrils flared and lip curling. Without the fear of the monster, her hatred of the man finally overwhelmed her.

The man’s wide, manic eyes abruptly turned to the young woman in the doorway, and he flung himself forward. The orderlies barely managed to restrain him, pulling him back just as he clawed at her sleeve.

  “Evelyn!” he cried out, his hoarse voice bordering on a shriek. “Evelyn – baby – please! You have to – you gotta – Evelyn!” His cries dissolved into a stream of incoherent gibberish, but still he struggled against the orderlies’ grip, writhing and spitting like a rabid beast.

  “Miss Raven, perhaps you should move back,” Officer Cash interjected, clearly uncomfortable with how close the man had come to attacking the young woman under his protection.

Evelyn shuffled backwards slightly as the officer tried to position himself between her and Tyler.

_Tyler_.

She could hardly believe it was the same man in front of her. They had told her about the state he was in, but she hadn’t really understood their full meaning until now.

  “What happened to him?” she murmured, just loud enough for the officer to hear.

  “Scarecrow happened to him,” Cash explained, feeling uneasy at having to speak the name. “He got a lungful of that psychopath’s latest toxin – ended up hallucinating god knows what until his mind finally cracked. Now he spends most of his time writhing around and screaming at the walls. The plan was to try and find a way to treat him, but he lashes out at everyone and everything for as long as he’s conscious. Three days back he put one of the doctors in the ICU, that’s when the decision was made to move him to the Penitentiary. Nothing we can really do for him I’m afraid, not for the time being.”

Evelyn listened carefully to the officer’s words, knowing in the back of her mind that Tyler had been through – and was still going through – a horrifically traumatising experience at the hands of one of Gotham’s most twisted criminals. But all she felt was relief. One monster dealt with at the hands of another.

 

When Tyler continued to fight against the orderlies’ strong grip, his babbling replaced by howling and snarling, Evelyn was ordered to leave the room until they sedated him. After a few minutes the screaming died down, and Tyler was strapped, unconscious, to a gurney.

Evelyn followed behind as the gurney was pushed along the maze of corridors towards Tyler’s new ‘home’ in the Penitentiary ward, staring down at his restrained form.

He had been so kind, when they had first met – gentle and caring and polite. Always there with an umbrella when it rained, or to come over to her apartment at 2am when she needed someone to talk to. He had showered her with gifts and compliments, and she had thought he was perfect.

But two months into their relationship, things had begun to change. It started as tiny things, here and there – a backhanded compliment, a disapproving look when she had left for a night out with her friends. She had brushed it off because it was hardly anything, and besides, he loved her. Didn’t he? He told her he did, all the time; but ‘I love you’ soon became ‘no-one else will’. And the first bruises appeared: on her wrists where he’d tried to stop her walking away; on her back where he’d shoved her into to door; on her cheek when she’d gone against his will.

Bruises that were still visible, in fading shades of green and yellow, on her shoulder where Tyler had just pulled her sleeve down.

She had tried to leave, just once, and he had threatened her with the kitchen knife. Later, as he told her she should never have made him angry like that, he had said he didn’t mean it. That he never would have used the knife. But Evelyn had seen it, in his eyes – his pure, deep rage – and she believed that he could kill her. More terrifyingly, she believed that he _would_ kill her, and she didn’t think he needed much provocation to do it. And so she stayed: a prisoner in their apartment, in their relationship.

Until that day. Standing in the Penitentiary, ears ringing with the screams and howls of the incurable, she was not afraid. She watched as the orderlies locked the heavy door of Tyler’s cell, and smiled for the first time in months. Now, he was the prisoner.

And finally, Evelyn was free.


	2. Message

CHAPTER TWO – MESSAGE

The difference in Evelyn’s mood as she followed Officer Cash away from the Penitentiary was tangible. The tensed muscles she was accustomed to had finally relaxed. In spite of the oppressive nature of her surroundings, she felt light and free. The realisation was euphoric; she would never have to see Tyler’s face again. A sharp laugh, all the more stark for the silence in the corridor, slipped out before she could stop it.

Cash turned at the sound to see Evelyn clap a hand over her mouth, her ears turning pink at the attention. But her smile was still visible over the tops of her fingers – and Cash couldn’t blame her.

He was privy to more information regarding the Carlton case than the general public, and had been aware of the rumours that the boy had been less than a model citizen. He had been on guard more than once when Carlton’s ramblings had been peppered with snarled comments directed at an absent Miss Raven, and had witnessed the aggression the boy was capable of. The bruises he had just seen on the young woman’s shoulder had confirmed his suspicions, and he was almost as glad as she was to see Carlton locked away in the Penitentiary.

Cash’s attention was snatched away from the young woman as his radio began to crackle, issuing a muffled voice. He asked the guard on the other end to repeat herself, hoping that he’d misheard. But the reply came clear as day, souring Cash’s expression as Evelyn looked on.

  “Is there a problem?” she asked, tensing her shoulders subconsciously.

  “Only a small one,” the officer replied. “There’s a patient transfer happening along the route we want to be taking – a maximum security inmate – and I wasn’t made aware. So we need to either take a detour through one of the detention blocks, or we can wait for the transfer to be finished. But that could take another half hour at least, based on previous experience. It’s your call, Miss Raven.”

  “Would the inmates pose any kind of danger?” Evelyn enquired cautiously. She wasn’t keen on the idea of passing through a cell block, but now her task was done she was eager to leave the asylum.

  “They’ll be locked up, completely secure,” Cash assured her. “A new face will probably get their attention, unfortunately, but you’ll just have to ignore anything they say. There’ll be at least two other members of the security team there as well, just in case.”

Evelyn swallowed, composing herself. She appreciated Cash’s honesty, and though the thought made her a little anxious, she decided it would be bearable.

  “Detour it is then, Officer Cash.”

 

Evelyn’s eyes widened as the doors opened with a deep, metallic groan. The space before her was a far cry from the bleached white of the private wing; the walls were drab grey concrete, the floors textured steel, both smattered with stains Evelyn had no desire to know the origins of. Here, the air smelled not of bleach but of metal, and the musk of human bodies.

The bodies in question were beginning to press themselves against the bars of their cells, craning for a better look at the newcomer. Gazes trained themselves on Evelyn’s face like crosshairs, and her stomach began to squirm. The identical blue-grey jumpsuits that were the uniform of Arkham’s criminally insane did little to disguise those who wore them; here, Evelyn was face-to-face with Gotham’s most infamous villains.

  “When you said ‘inmates’, I wasn’t expecting… Well, you could have been a little more specific!” Evelyn hissed through her teeth at the officer beside her. Against her better instincts, Evelyn’s eyes darted from face to face, inadvertently meeting the stares of the all-too-recognisable inmates.

The closest to her was the Penguin; a sombre yet well-groomed older man, his face distorted by a scar around his left eye. In the next cell a handsome, brown-haired man in purple-rimmed glasses looked her up and down with an approving, almost hungry, grin. Evelyn recognised his face from the news reports – this was the recently-recaptured Riddler, bruises from Batman’s fists still colouring his jaw.

  “Alice?” enquired a voice to Evelyn’s right, and she flinched away from the short, blond man reaching out longingly through his cell bars. He withdrew his hand with a disappointed shake of the head when he got a decent look at Evelyn’s face. “Not Alice, no,” he muttered forlornly. “Pretty, yes, but not _Alice_.”

Even with his attention drawn away from her, Evelyn felt very uncomfortable. She knew that the Mad Hatter’s soft voice and small stature disguised a fierce and twisted obsession.

  “We’d better get a move on, Miss Raven,” Officer Cash insisted. Evelyn didn’t need persuading; she forced herself to look straight ahead as she began to make her way down the corridor.

She had nearly reached the exit when a discordantly cheerful and disturbingly unmistakeable voice called out from a cell to her left.

  “Well, _hello_ there! My, my – what’s this, Cash? A lovely little surprise for me, perhaps? She’s really something, eh?” The Joker followed his words with a wink in Evelyn’s direction, before breaking into a delirious laugh. His scarred smile was stretched wide as he cackled, remnants of greasepaint gathered in the corners of his mouth and eyes.

  “Back off, Joker!” Cash growled, banging his hooked hand against the cell bars. Joker merely jumped back with a renewed burst of laughter, and fixed his eyes on Evelyn.

  “If you ever change your mind, beautiful,” he grinned. “You know where to find me.”

Evelyn forced herself to keep her composure even as her mind screamed at her to run, managing a calm – if disgusted – expression.

  “I wouldn’t hold your breath,” she muttered, unfortunately loud enough for the green-haired madman to hear, which set him off laughing again.

 

The Joker’s cackling echoed its way down the corridors of the Intensive Treatment wing, soon reaching the ears of a tall, bespectacled man being marched along by two orderlies. He winced at the sound, and let out a tired sigh. His residency in the dingy asylum was bad enough, especially when he had full possession of his sanity, but the company he was forced to keep in his cell block… Dr Jonathan Crane usually despised the term ‘lunatic’, dismissive and unscientific as it was, but here he felt it applied. Perhaps it was because his patience was being pushed to its limits by the incessant babbling and meaningless drivel that his fellow inmates spouted. In fact, he was beginning to think it might even drive him mad – he rolled his eyes at the irony of such a thing.

Still, he was at least a little curious as to what could have set the Joker off. Usually it was some twisted joke told to a patrolling officer in very poor taste, a meagre attempt at winding them up in the absence of an opportunity for genuine mayhem. But this was a laugh with a different edge – genuinely amused as opposed to sadistic or cruel. Very little of note occurred in the asylum, so even the slightest departure from routine was enough to catch Jonathan’s interest. His mandatory appointments with Arkham’s poor excuses for doctors were hardly engaging fare.

Further down the corridor, the doors to Jonathan’s cell block slid open and two figures moved into view. The first, he recognised as Officer Cash, but the second – whom Cash was hurriedly trying to obscure from view – was a new face entirely. The newcomer was a woman, quite young by the look of her, with a slender build and long, dark hair. Despite Cash’s attempts to keep her hidden, she was peering at Jonathan from behind the officer’s arm.

  “Aaron? Sorry about this, we had no idea you were bringing her this way,” one of the orderlies apologised, tightening his hold on Jonathan’s arm as a precaution.

  “Just… get Crane back to his cell so we can be on our way.” Cash’s voice dropped to a low mutter. “The lack of communication is this damn place…”

The orderlies began to move Jonathan, who had not stopped watching the young woman stood behind Cash. They knew all too well that it was bad news whenever the inmates paid so much attention to anyone.

  “Crane? As in, Dr Crane, the Scarecrow?” The young woman stepped out to get a better look at Jonathan, blocking the orderlies’ way. “This is _him_?”

Jonathan’s attention was caught by something in the woman’s expression; it was not the expected fear, for that he could detect in an instant, but something else entirely. There was surprise, certainly, and elements of both curiosity and discomfort. And her words suggested recognition, although given his reputation Jonathan realised that was hardly unusual. But that final element of her expression he could not place.

  “Miss Raven, I suggest you stay back,” Cash warned, but the young woman paid him no mind. She and Jonathan were still studying each other’s’ expressions closely.

Miss Raven; Jonathan recognised the name. He had heard the various guards and orderlies discussing her, the girlfriend of his latest test subject. The young woman’s insistence on seeing the boy transferred to the Penitentiary had been the talk of the day.

Finally, Jonathan thought. Someone of interest had come along.

 

  “Miss Raven, is it?” Crane asked coolly. His voice was surprisingly calm and somewhat bemused. “I do believe I recently had the pleasure of meeting your boyfriend?”

Evelyn stiffened, meeting the ice blue eyes behind Crane’s silver-rimmed glasses. She recognised the taunt behind the seemingly innocuous comment, but would not let her emotions rise to it.

  “So it is you,” she confirmed, voice level. “You’re the one who attacked Tyler.”

It was difficult for Evelyn to reconcile the horror stories of the Scarecrow with the man she saw in front of her. His tall, thin frame suggested one too many missed meals; the unkempt dark brown hair created a sharp contrast with the pallor of his face. Could this really be the man who had driven Tyler to insanity? Were it not for his words, she would hardly believe it. But then she saw the cruel intelligence in his eyes, and suddenly there was no doubt – this was the creature of Gotham’s nightmares.

  “It was an experiment, not an attack, Miss Raven,” Crane corrected her with barely a shift in his tone. “It is hardly my fault young Mr Carlton had such a weak mind.” He smiled, a cold, taunting twitch at the corners of his mouth. “You, however… quite the brave one, aren’t you, child?”

Before the orderlies had time to react, Crane broke their grip and moved forward, uncomfortably close to Evelyn. In the same movement, he seized one of Evelyn’s hands in his own, pulling her towards him so their noses were only inches apart. “Tell me, if it’s not me that you fear, then what _are_ you afraid of?” Crane hissed, maintaining his grasp on Evelyn’s hand even as Cash and the orderlies tried to separate them.

Determined not to look intimidated, Evelyn forced herself to meet the criminal’s gaze, refusing to flinch even as his cold fingers tightened painfully around her wrist.

  “Nothing, not anymore,” she answered him, her voice barely above a whisper. “All thanks to you.”

 

With a final effort, Cash wrenched the young woman’s hand out of Jonathan’s, and wasted no time in hurrying her past the now-restrained inmate and along the corridor.

Jonathan was dragged back to his cell and thrown unceremoniously to the floor, knocking his glasses askew. Straightening them, he paid no mind to the orderlies’ threats of solitary confinement, instead playing the young woman’s words over and over in his head. _“All thanks to you.”_

He was reluctant to admit it, but he couldn’t make sense of it. His experiment had earned Miss Raven’s boyfriend a one-way ticket to the madhouse, and her response had been to thank him. There was clearly more to the young woman than met the eye – and Jonathan was determined to figure it out. At last, he had a new distraction.


	3. Plans

CHAPTER THREE – PLANS

  
  “You really shouldn’t have done that,” Cash told Evelyn as they turned the final corner on their way to the exit. “Crane’s attention is not something you want.”

  “It’s not something I was after,” she countered. “I just wanted to prove that I’m not afraid of him.”

  “If anything, that’ll make you _more_ interesting to him. He likes to psychoanalyse everyone he comes across, acting like he’s still a doctor. And I have a suspicion that he’ll go to good lengths trying to figure out why you thanked him.”

Evelyn looked across at Cash, confused.

  “He doesn’t know? I thought he knew who I was.”

  “He knows you were Carlton’s girlfriend, and that you insisted on seeing him before we locked him for good. Sure, there’ve been rumours going around that he was far from nice, but most people think this visit is a devoted gesture, a final tearful goodbye. Tabloid media’s been having a great time with it.”

Evelyn looked down at the floor, unable to put together a response. She felt nauseous at the thought of people romanticising her situation. The idea that she might be so devoted to Tyler, after all he had put her through, was deplorable.

_No_ , Evelyn reminded herself, taking a deep and steadying breath. _No focusing on the past. You’re free of him now_. The thought of Tyler had been a plague on her life for the past three years, and she was determined to be rid of it. She would leave her past with the man who had tormented her: locked away in the depths of the asylum.

 

A rather distressed administrator, nervously drumming her pen against her palm, was waiting for Evelyn at the visitor’s entrance.

  “Is something wrong?” Evelyn glanced between the woman and Cash, who seemed just as confused as she was.

  “It’s the media, Miss. A bunch of paparazzi and a handful of reporters with cameramen have set up just outside the door. Apparently they want a comment on the Carlton situation.”

Evelyn cursed. Was it really so hard to just leave things be? She just wanted to get away from Arkham and get on with her life. Unfortunately, Tyler had been one of the most high-profile of Scarecrow’s victims in a long while, and anything to do with Gotham’s more theatrical menaces always pulled a crowd. Evelyn had had to get used to the press attention.

She bid Cash a hasty goodbye, declining his offer to escort her to her car, and collected her belongings from the check in. She strode purposefully out the door and across the parking lot, pointedly ignoring the camera flashes and shouted questions that followed her. That was, until one particular question made her halt.

  “Miss Raven, what was it like seeing the man you love suffering from Scarecrow’s toxin?”

She stopped for a moment, staring blankly at the floor. All common sense told her to keep walking, to ignore the crowd, but the answer she wanted to give had surprised her. _Relieved_.

And she had been, seeing Tyler finally become the helpless one. Watching the door to his cell locked, knowing he couldn’t hurt her anymore. She still felt the same euphoria as when she had turned her back on him for the last time.

But the question had angered her, too. ‘The man you love’, they’d said. They had no idea what a wretched excuse of a man Tyler had been, and it made her blood boil. It was time to set the record straight.

To say the reporter was surprised when Evelyn turned to him was an understatement. He eagerly thrust his microphone into her face, repeating the question.

  “I don’t love him,” Evelyn began, avoiding Tyler’s name. “Let me be clear on that. I haven’t for a very long time. He was abusive and manipulative, and I’m glad to be rid of him.”

  “But- in that case, why come to see him?” If the reporter was taken aback by Evelyn’s statement, he didn’t let it silence him. He knew better than to let good gossip get away from him.

  “Because I needed to see him locked up, to know I was safe from him. That’s all I have to say.”

Evelyn turned and made a beeline for her car, ignoring the flood of new questions that followed her confession. She kept quiet, although one last question caught her attention as she closed the car door and drowned out the clamour of voices.

“Does this mean you’re grateful to the Scarecrow?”

She tried to shake it off; whoever had asked it was just angling for a scandalous statement for the tabloids.  It was a ridiculous notion. How could anyone be grateful to that monster for what he had done to the people of Gotham? And yet, a tiny voice at the back of Evelyn’s head kept repeating the same three words over and over – words Evelyn had spoken to the Scarecrow himself only minutes before.

“Thanks to you.”

 

  “ _Thanks to you_.”

Lying on the lumpy mattress in his cell, Jonathan played Miss Raven’s words over in his head. It was surprising enough to meet someone who displayed no fear in his presence, never mind to have them thank him to his face. Miss Raven was a most curious character, and certainly the most interesting thing to have crossed his path since he was incarcerated. She had hardly even blinked, even with Jonathan’s face mere inches from hers.

Having been so close to one of Jonathan’s test subject, the young woman should have had more cause to fear or hate him than most. If she had seen the Carlton boy being transferred, then she had witnessed the toxin’s effects up close.

What reason on Earth would she have to thank him?

_The great Dr Crane, stumped by a common girl_ , came a drawling voice by Jonathan’s ear. He swatted at it absentmindedly, the way one would try and swat away a fly, only to get a mocking laugh for his troubles.

  “Leave me be, Scarecrow.”

_Not likely, Jonny boy._

Jonathan sighed. His constant companion had taken to getting on his nerves more and more in recent days. Without an experiment to hold his attention, Scarecrow was petulant and bothersome, especially when Jonathan was trying to concentrate on something other than his work. And for now, his encounter with Miss Raven held his focus.

_Hey, Jon, remember how her boyfriend squealed when we got him? Like a kettle boiling!_ Scarecrow cackled with glee.

He wasn’t wrong – Jonathan could recall the boy’s screams as the toxin took hold. The formula had been of a very high calibre: a fast-acting aerosolised serum that had left the boy a babbling mess within minutes. It was almost a shame to waste it on the drunken lout.

_He disrespected us,_ Scarecrow reasoned. _He deserved to be taken down a peg._

Also true – the Carlton boy would have gone unscathed had he not thrown himself out of an alley at Jonathan, demanding he call a cab.

His eyes had been bloodshot, his breath reeking of alcohol and vomit, when he grabbed ahold of Jonathan’s coat. Recoiling in disgust, Jonathan had pushed the drunkard away. Heavily intoxicated as he was, the Carlton boy had toppled over, tearing Jonathan’s coat sleeve in the process.

The drunken haze had abruptly given way to rage, as the boy clumsily pulled himself to his feet, shouting a string of colourful curses.

  “Son of a bitch!” he yelled, leaning unsteadily against a wall. “Think you’re tough shit, do you? I’m going to tear you to pieces!”

The right hook that had punctuated the brute’s words was thankfully off-aim, leaving Jonathan’s face unscathed.

_Tsk tsk,_ Scarecrow had tutted in Jonathan’s ear. _This boy needs to be taught some manners, don’t you think?_

Long fingers had wrapped themselves around the slim canister in Jonathan’s pocket, and a moment later a cloud of gas was enveloping the drunkards face. The potency of the new toxin was obvious: gasping and choking turned to primal, terrified screams within seconds; fingernails clawed at invisible horrors crawling across the boy’s skin. Within minutes, the cries faded and the brute fell unconscious, crumpling to the floor like a discarded ragdoll.

From what Jonathan had heard, the effects of the toxin had not loosened their hold on the Carlton boy since. By the sound of it, his latest formula had pushed the young man’s mind past breaking point. Jonathan doubted whether even _he_ could perform a successful treatment of the boy’s condition – not that he had any reason to want to. Regardless, Carlton was a matter of the past. Jonathan’s focus was now on the intriguing girlfriend and her unexpected message.

  “Nothing, not any more. All thanks to you” – Miss Raven’s words rang clear in Jonathan’s head, and realisation struck him.

  “Not _anymore_ ,” he repeated aloud, grinning as he reached a conclusion. “She’s crediting me with removing the source of her fear, which must mean it was the boy she was afraid of.”

The theory made sense; Carlton had displayed the sudden and overwhelming rage that Jonathan knew was common with abusers. He had turned to violence with little hesitation against Jonathan – perhaps he had done the same to Miss Raven.

Jonathan scowled. If his suspicions were true, then the Carlton boy had been scum, and removing him from society was a favour to the city. And the city had rewarded Jonathan by throwing him back into Arkham. Arkham; where he was likely to spend the rest of his days unless he happened to escape.

The asylum had an abysmal track record with treating patients, Jonathan knew that. Not that he needed treatment – although sometimes he thought it might be nice to be rid of Scarecrow’s taunting.

_Like you’d ever get rid of me, Jon,_ came the hissing response. _You need me. And anyway, old Quincy’s not gonna let you out of here alive._

The Warden loathed Jonathan, even more so than most of Gotham’s Rogues. The old man wanted to see him dead or, failing that, locked away for the rest of his days. All because Jonathan had figured out some truths about the Warden that the old man hadn’t wanted to hear.

No, Arkham was likely to be his home now. He had people on the outside that could help break him out, but was it worth it only to be thrown back in a few months later? Jonathan was clever, but the Batman had better resources. It was inevitable, and he was growing tired of running in circles. Aside from that, his option was to play along with Arkham’s ‘therapy’ and try and earn his release – but the Warden would go out of his way to make sure that never happened. Unless…

Jonathan smiled as an idea formed. He’d need someone on his side, someone to keep the Warden from interfering. Someone with influence, who had a reason to help him; someone who was grateful to him.

  “Thanks to you.”

_So the girl might be of some use to us, then?_

  “If she feels indebted enough, then yes. If not, some persuasion can be put in place.”

If she could stand up to Jonathan, and survive the Carlton boy, then Miss Raven could certainly stand up to the simpering Warden. It was just a matter of leverage. Already, detailed plans were coming together in Jonathan’s mind. He was not done with Miss Raven just yet.


	4. Contact

CHAPTER FOUR – CONTACT

It had been over a week since Tyler’s transfer, and the media still seemed to be unusually interested in the whole affair. The attention had dwindled slightly, but Evelyn could still hardly manage a trip into the city without at least one paparazzi encounter. She supposed it was to be expected – any snippet of news related to Gotham’s Rogues always went down a treat – but that didn’t mean it wasn’t getting on her nerves. Particularly now the stories were getting more and more outlandish.

  “Hey, check this one out,” grinned Cassandra, Evelyn’s best friend, passing her another nonsense gossip mag. They were lounging about in Cass’ living room, trying to make light of the situation by mocking the ridiculous stories.

Evelyn took the magazine from Cass and scanned over the article, pulling a face.

  _‘It seems Evelyn Raven is having no trouble moving on after the incarceration of Tyler Carlton. Her new suitor, none other than Bruce Wayne, was spotted visiting Evelyn at her parent’s home, flowers in hand. With Tyler Carlton out of the way, could things be getting serious with Gotham’s most eligible bachelor?’_

Evelyn scoffed and passed the magazine back to Cass, shaking her head.

  “When were you going to tell me you’ve been making a move on Bruce Wayne?” Cass teased.

  “Shut up, Cass. Dad’s company works with the Wayne Corporation; I’ve only ever met Bruce through some fancy fundraising events.”

  “Then what was he doing at your house, with a huge bouquet of flowers?” Cass countered with a grin, holding up the paparazzi candid attached to the article. It wasn’t the best angle but was clearly Bruce Wayne, arms almost overflowing with a floral arrangement.

  “He wanted to check in, see how I was doing,” Evelyn explained. “Nothing funny going on there though, I promise.”

  “Can I have him then?”

Evelyn laughed, batting at her friend with a sofa cushion.

  “Sure, go ahead…” Evelyn’s laughter trailed off as she spotted another article, accompanied by an old photo of her and Tyler.

_‘Conspiracy?’_ accused the headline. A skim read of the article revealed an absurd theory that Evelyn had hired Crane to attack Tyler, possibly even kill him. She knew it was just tabloid nonsense, but it made her surprisingly angry. In an abrupt flurry, she scrunched the magazine into a ball and threw it across the room.

  “Hey, you’re going to the charity auction next week?” Cass asked, giving Evelyn a welcome distraction.

  “Oh, yeah – I decided it would be good to get out the house, and Bruce asked me to donate a painting for the auction. He figured it was a good way to keep my mind off things.”

Bruce Wayne had announced the charity fundraising gala a few months ago, but Evelyn had initially turned down the invitation – at Tyler’s insistence. But now she was eager to get back into the world, Evelyn had changed her answer, and a delighted Bruce had requested she donate a painting for the cause.

The painting itself rested on an easel in the far corner of the room; one of Gotham’s main streets after dark, brightened by neon lights and blurred by rain. It was almost complete, needing only a few small finishing touches, and Evelyn observed it with pride.

  “Hopefully there won’t be too many paparazzi at the event,” Evelyn thought aloud. “I really don’t need to feed those tabloid rumours any more.”

  “Wayne’s usually pretty good at handling press, you should be fine,” Cass smiled. “And besides,” she added with a trace of bitterness. “Mom and Dad have both been invited, and Dad’s decided to bring his new girlfriend. So their fighting will probably draw attention away from you.”

Evelyn winced; Cass’ parents were infamous in Gotham’s social circles for their drama. But, selfish as it was, Evelyn would be happy with it, so long as none of the drama involved her.

 

The moment the car door was opened, Evelyn was greeted by an explosion of camera flashes and a hail of questions.

  “Miss Raven! Can you tell us- ?”

  “Is it true what people are saying about- ?”

  “-just a few minutes to-”

  “-your thoughts on Scarecrow-”

  “-anything more to say about Tyler Carlton?”

  “Miss Raven!”

Evelyn tried her best to ignore their interrogations, linking arms with her mother and smiling as they made their way into the manor. This was her first big social gathering without Tyler hovering by her shoulder, and she was determined to enjoy it.

Once they were through the doors and free from the gaze of the cameras, Evelyn’s father gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. They were soon greeted by Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne’s butler, who shook their hands warmly.

  “Miss Evelyn, it’s good to see you looking so well,” he added with a fond smile. “Master Wayne is so pleased you could make it.”

As they joined the other guests, the Ravens were met with a babble of conversation and a seemingly endless supply of drinks. It wasn’t long before Evelyn found Cass – who had been deliberately trying to avoid her parents – and the two of them were soon chatting earnestly with everyone. Any thoughts of Crane and Tyler quickly melted away in the lively atmosphere and the warm haze of excellent champagne.

  “Evelyn Raven! So glad you came!”

Bruce Wayne greeted her heartily as he manoeuvred through the crowd, a charming smile plastered ear to ear.

  “And Cassandra Vine! You look stunning,” he added, bringing a blush to Cass’ cheeks as he took her hand and coyly pressed a kiss to her fingers. “I’m sorry it’s taken so long to come and say hello, but it seems everyone wants a word this evening. I tell you, Evelyn, if I had ten dollars for each person who’s come up to talk about how much they love your painting, we’d have hit our fundraising target already!” Bruce laughed good-naturedly. “It seems you’re the woman of the hour.”

Evelyn smiled, a little bashful at the exuberant praise but flattered nonetheless.

  “As she should be; she’s a genius!” Cass exclaimed, wrapping an arm around Evelyn’s shoulders and giving her a quick squeeze. “I swear, the amount of times I came close to stealing that piece from her house… If I lose out on it tonight, I might have to commission one,” she teased, much to Bruce’s amusement.

  “Well, I am looking for new projects,” Evelyn admitted with a smile, but her words were lost to a sudden outburst of foul language from the far side of the room. Craning her neck along with the rest of the guests in an attempt to find the source of the fuss, Evelyn heard a tired sigh escape from Cass.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” she addressed Evelyn and Bruce with a forced smile. “I have to go attend to my parents.” Cass turned and began to weave her way through the crowd as another voice let loose a barrage of curses in reply.

  “Perhaps inviting them both wasn’t the best idea I’ve had,” Bruce commented with a grimace. “I was hoping for an opportunity to speak with you alone, though.”

  “Oh?” Evelyn replied non-committally, wondering where the conversation was headed. Despite his generally flirtatious attitude, she felt this was one of Bruce's more serious moments.

  “I know you’re probably sick of hearing this lately, but how are you doing?”

Evelyn faltered at the question for a moment; in truth, very few people had been asking her about what had happened in recent months. She often felt as though they believed the mere mention of it would leave her distraught. As if she were fragile, made of delicate porcelain, ready to shatter in an instant. So it took a moment to put together an answer.

  “I’m… better, certainly,” she replied after a second’s hesitation. “I think I’m still getting used to everything, really, it’s a lot to process. But going to the asylum definitely helped, despite everyone telling me not to go. I think I needed the evidence that he was really locked away.”

Bruce’s eyes hardened a little at her mention of the asylum.

  “And how are you after your encounter with Crane?” he asked with a frown, and Evelyn’s stomach tightened as she remembered the piercing blue stare of the man responsible for Tyler’s madness.

  “I – I wasn’t expecting to run into him, that’s for sure,” she answered with a weak laugh. “But seeing him as Crane, in Arkham, rather than as Scarecrow – he seemed human enough that it hasn’t bothered me too much. Is that strange?”

  “Not at all,” Bruce replied. He was smiling, but Evelyn noticed it didn’t reach his eyes. “Although-”

  “Sorry to disturb you, Master Bruce. Only there’s a man on the phone for Miss Evelyn, sir.”

Alfred smiled apologetically, but Bruce seemed unperturbed by the interruption.

  “Of course; I’ll see you later, Evelyn. It’s lovely to have you here,” he said courteously, and Evelyn followed Alfred away from the crowd.

  “Who is it on the phone?” she asked, unable to think who might be contacting her.

  “I’m afraid the gentleman wouldn’t say, Miss Evelyn,” Alfred answered. “But he insists that it’s an urgent matter.”

Still puzzled, she tentatively accepted the phone from him.

  “Hello? This is Evelyn Raven speaking.”

  _“Ah, Miss Raven, so glad you could come to the phone.”_

Evelyn blanched, any haze of alcohol vanishing in a second. She had only heard the caller’s voice briefly before, but she recognised it in an instant: Crane.

  _“I’m sorry to have disturbed your evening, child, but I was hoping for a chance to speak with you,”_ Crane added coolly.

  “What were you hoping to discuss, Crane?” Evelyn responded with forced calm. Alfred, who had been stood nearby, looked up in alarm at the name, and promptly disappeared into next room.

  _“That’s Dr Crane, if you’d be so kind,”_ came the quick reply. _“I must confess that you left quite the impression when we met, child. I’ve been giving your words considerable thought since then, and I’ve been trying to get in touch.”_

  “Is that so?” Evelyn asked sharply. She was more angry than frightened in the face of the criminal’s call.

  _“Your gratitude was most unexpected, in light of the circumstances,”_ Crane continued. _“Of course, the true nature of those circumstances was not known to me at the time. I had believed Tyler Carlton to be your boyfriend, I hadn’t realised he was also your abuser.”_

  “You-” Evelyn’s carefully prepared retort stuck in her throat. It clearly hadn’t taken long for Crane to figure things out. “I didn’t mean I was grateful-”

  _“But you are, I think, Miss Raven,”_ Crane replied, and even through the distortion of the phone line he sounded amused.

  “If you don’t mind, Crane, I’d like to get back to my evening,” Evelyn answered coldly, deliberately leaving out his title.

  _“The auction doesn’t start for another half hour, I believe, so you would not be missing anything of importance,”_ Crane remarked. _“If you wish to return to your family, however, then I shall have to contact you at another time. But before you go, might I say that your outfit was an excellent choice. That particular shade of blue suits you very well, as does the sapphire necklace.”_

Evelyn froze. It was not too much of a surprise that Crane knew about the evening schedule, or that her family were in attendance, seeing as he had known where to contact her. But if he knew what she was wearing, then that would mean-

  “You’re here,” Evelyn exclaimed, no louder than a whisper, as her hand flew to the sapphire pendant at her throat. Her eyes darted to every doorway and window, and she began to scan every face she could see. “How did you get in?”

Crane laughed softly down the phone line.

  _“Do you think you can spare a moment to talk now, child?”_ he taunted. _“It seems only fair, after the effort I went to-”_

Crane was cut off, and replaced by a considerable amount of crashing noises and muffled voices from the other end of the line.

  _“Get your hands off me! I need to-”_

_“I want him in solitary with twenty-four hour surveillance!”_

  “Hello? Is anyone there?” Evelyn asked hesitantly as the various noises quietened.

  _“Hello? Who’s speaking, please?”_ replied a new voice, older and more agitated.

  “Evelyn Raven. Could you tell me who this is and what’s going on?”

  _“This is Warden Sharp of Arkham Asylum – I’m sorry for the disturbance. Crane had been demanding to speak with you but I didn’t think he’d- it seems Crane broke out of his cell to contact you, Miss Raven,”_ the Warden blustered.

  “You mean he’s still there at Arkham?”

  _“Yes, of course. Where else would he be?”_

Evelyn let out a relieved sigh – Crane was nowhere near her family. They were safe. But if Crane had gone to such lengths in order to contact her, then there was every chance he would try it again. And she didn’t want him digging around in her personal life. Ignoring the Warden’s question – and the feeling of unease in her stomach – she quickly made up her mind to do something about it.

  “Can you arrange for me to come and talk to Crane?” she asked, before she lost her nerve.

  _“Can I- what?”_

  “If I don’t speak with Crane, I think you can agree he’ll try this again. I’d like you to arrange for us to talk,” Evelyn repeated, speaking patronisingly slowly. She was very quickly becoming irritated with the bumbling Warden.

  _“I suppose we could arrange something tomorrow… I don’t know when. This isn’t exactly protocol, Miss Raven.”_

Evelyn thought it over for a moment. She certainly wanted the whole business over and done with, and she doubted she would be able to relax while it was still ahead of her. The way she saw it, there wasn’t a great likelihood of returning to the party and managing to enjoy it now.

  “Would tonight be possible?” she requested, pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance when her question was met with a series of splutters. “I can be there in half an hour.”

  _“Well, as long as you’re sure that’s what you want, Miss Raven-”_

  “I can assure you it’s not what I want, but it’s what I think is necessary.”

  _“I shall have someone meet you at the main entrance, then. Although I really don’t think that-”_

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Goodbye, Warden.”

Evelyn slammed the phone down, and let out a long breath. Alfred had reappeared, and after explaining the situation he offered to call the car for her, and to tell her parents that she would see them at home.

  “And tell Bruce that I’m sorry I had to rush out like this, but… I’m afraid this needs sorting as soon as possible,” Evelyn added.

She collected her coat, and bid Alfred farewell as the car pulled up outside. Alfred had thankfully had the sense to call it round to the back door, so there would be no tabloid rumours over her early departure.

 

As the car made its way up the long, dark road to the asylum, Evelyn took a deep breath and braced herself for a second encounter with the Master of Fear.


	5. Negotiations

CHAPTER FIVE – NEGOTIATIONS

  “Well played, Doctor.”

  “Drop it, Nygma,” Jonathan muttered, wiping a smear of blood from his lip as he tried to prop himself up against his cell wall. The Riddler was watching him with some amusement from across the corridor, leaning casually against his bars.

  “You really got your ass handed to you, huh? That leg looks pretty messed up,” he laughed, gesturing to the way Jonathan’s leg was sprawled out in front of him.

He wasn’t wrong – the struggle with the guards after they had found him on the phone had left him rather the worse for wear. His left ankle was certainly suffering a bad sprain, if not broken. The various stings from contact with guards’ fists were turning to heavy aches, and Jonathan figured there would soon be colourful bruises scattered across his face. Not his proudest hour. And yet –

  “It got me what I wanted, Edward,” he countered.

 _Not to mention the damage you got in,_ Scarecrow reminded him. Jonathan smirked; for once his companion was right. He had definitely dislocated on guard’s shoulder during the fight, and was fairly sure he had felt a nose break against his knuckles.

But most importantly, he had secured a meeting with Miss Raven. Her previously cool demeanour had cracked when she thought he was there at Wayne’s party – the tabloid websites had caught enough photos to let him pull off the bluff. Jonathan had heard the fear in her voice, even with the distortion of the phone line. That would make it all the easier to talk her round with regard to his plan. And now the young woman was on her way here.

It was time to get things moving.

Warden Sharp was waiting at the visitor’s entrance when Evelyn arrived, Officer Cash towering over his left shoulder. Cash gave Evelyn a polite smile, but Sharp looked as though a vein was about to pop in his rather sweaty forehead.

  “Miss Raven, I hope you understand how lenient we are being toward your situation here-”

  “Take me to Crane. Now,” Evelyn cut across. She could deal with a lecture about protocol and the like later. First, she wanted to deal with the psychopath who had ruined her evening.

One look at the fury in Evelyn’s face was enough to convince the Warden, who abruptly shut his mouth and turned on his heels, gesturing for the young woman to follow him. For someone who supposedly dealt with the criminally insane on a daily basis, he seemed remarkably easy to rattle.

 

Evelyn quickly fell in stride behind the Warden, with Cash bringing up the rear. Each strike of her stiletto heels echoed in the near-empty corridors, turning the heads of every doctor, orderly and janitor that they passed. Evelyn pulled her coat tighter around herself, uncomfortably aware of how many gazes were lingering on her legs and chest.

Before long, they were back in the maze of steel and concrete that made up the high security wing, and the lingering glances of the staff were replaced by the aggressive cat-calls and wolf-whistles of the inmates. Evelyn forced herself to keep looking straight ahead, focusing on the Warden’s poorly-disguised baldness instead of the hoots and cries of the caged men.

  “Well look who came back to visit!” came a familiar and unnerving drawl to Evelyn’s right. “Welcome back sweetheart – you needn’t have dressed up for me!”

Unable to help herself, Evelyn turned to see the Joker leaning forward against his cell bars for a better look at her. He ran his eyes up and down her figure and made a show of wetting his scarred lips with his tongue.

  “Delightful,” he muttered, and Evelyn fought the urge to hide behind Cash. She felt sick.

The Warden pointedly cleared his throat, and ushered Evelyn forward to stand in front of Crane’s cell.

  “Alright Crane, you got your wish. Now talk.”

Peering into the dark corner of the cell, Evelyn balked. Crane was a mess. He was slumped on the floor, apparently relying on the wall to hold him up, with one leg splayed out in front of him. One of his eyes was beginning to swell shut behind his ruined glasses, and his nose was still bleeding.

In spite of how she felt toward Crane, Evelyn’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. What had the guards done to him?

  “Good evening, Miss Raven,” Crane greeted her with a rasp. “A pleasure to see you again.”

  “Pretty little friend you’ve got there, Scarecrow – care to share her?” Joker laughed from his cell, and Evelyn flinched at the high-pitched cackle.

  “Not here,” she said, so quietly that the Warden almost didn’t hear her.

  “Sorry?”

  “I’m not talking to him here, not with… _them_ around,” Evelyn repeated, this time with more conviction. “Find us somewhere private to talk.”

The other inmates in the block quietened in interest. Small and bumbling though he was, people rarely talked that way to the Warden.

Sharp’s ire with Evelyn’s command was evident from the reddening hue of his face, but she stared him down.

  “There’s a med room just round the corner,” Cash cut in, eager to get things moving so he could finish up and go home. “But you might have to help Crane walk.”

  “Fine,” Evelyn conceded. “Do you have a tissue, Warden?”

  “A what?”

  “A tissue.”

Deciding it was better not to question the tired and irate young woman, Sharp fished a clean tissue out of his pocket and placed it in her open hand as Cash unlocked Crane’s cell.

As soon as the door was open, Evelyn took a steadying breath and walked in, presenting the tissue to a confused Crane.

  “For your nose,” she explained.

Crane took it and did his best to clean the blood off his face, before pulling himself slowly to his feet.

  “May I?” he asked, holding out his arm for support.

Evelyn reluctantly allowed him to wrap it around her shoulder, supporting his weight as best she could, and began to help him out of the cell.

  “Thank you for the tissue, Miss Raven,” Crane commented, uncomfortably close to Evelyn’s ear. “I appreciate the gesture.”

  “I just don’t want you making a mess of this coat,” Evelyn hissed back, earning a sharp laugh that was immediately followed by a rasping cough. Crane was certainly in a state.

 

It was a relief when they arrived in the med room and Evelyn could lower Crane into a chair. She quickly put some distance between herself and the wounded man, brushing down her coat where he had been leant against it.

  “If the others would kindly step outside, we can begin?” Crane suggested.

  “Officer Cash stays.”

  “Very well.”

Before the Warden could object, Evelyn closed the door on him and turned back to Crane.

  “What do you want?” Evelyn had intended for her words to sound impatient, but they had come out decidedly weary. “You ruined a perfectly good evening.”

  “Apologies, but it was the only window I could find.”

Evelyn scanned Crane’s face for any sign of mockery or sarcasm, but couldn’t find any. She kept silent, waiting for him to continue.

  “Before we get into the main purpose of my call, I’d like to clarify a few theories about your situation,” he began. “Was I correct about the nature of your relationship with Mr Carlton?”

  “That’s my business, not yours.”

  “I see, that’d be a ‘yes’, then,” Crane mused. “I understand if you don’t put much value in what I have to say about it, but I am sorry for what you went through. I know from some previous patients about how awful it can be.”

His words took Evelyn by surprise; there was no indication that he was being insincere. There was an improbably softness to his voice, a stark contrast to his prior coldness.

  “You’re not my therapist, Crane,” Evelyn tried to deflect. “Stop wasting my time.”

Uncomfortable and impatient, she turned to leave.

  “Miss Raven, I’m not finished,” Crane entreated. The steely edge was back in his gaze when Evelyn turned back to face him, and she halted.

  “Please, have a seat,” he prompted, gesturing to an empty chair. “We still have things to discuss.”

 

Jonathan watched Miss Raven carefully as she took a seat, noticing the tension in her body. Flippant though she seemed, at her core she still felt some fear towards him, he noted. And why wouldn’t she? She knew what he was capable of.

He waited until he was certain he had her undivided attention before he continued.

  “In spite of your protests, Miss Raven, I do believe you feel some gratitude toward me for removing Mr Carlton from your life. I understand why you would be reluctant to admit to being indebted to someone you view as a criminal-”

  “I’m not in your debt-”

  “If you could let me finish?” Jonathan cut in, irritated with the interruption. The young woman settled back into her seat quietly, realising it wasn’t a request.

  “I would like to propose an arrangement that would benefit us both; I would have the… assistance I need for my plans, and you would be absolved of your debt to me.”

  “What plans?”

  “Getting out of this damned asylum.”

There was a pause as Miss Raven processed Jonathan’s words, during which time he observed her closely. The young woman was of particular interest to him, with all the contradictions she seemed to offer.

Her slight stature gave her a meek appearance, especially when contrasted against Cash’s bulk, and that had certainly been his initial impression when they had first met. And yet she had immediately surprised him with her unflinching stare and unprompted honesty. Speaking to her further had only added to her complexity; on the one hand, Jonathan had begun to uncover the fear she tried so carefully to keep hidden. It was there in her tensed muscles, her fidgeting hands, and her refusal to discuss the Carlton boy. But he hadn’t expected his phone call to prompt her to come immediately to Arkham, confronting Jonathan face to face and making demands of the Warden. Her lace-sleeved dress and carefully waved hair made her appear soft and delicate, but the fierceness of her will was there in her commanding voice and steady gaze.

Perhaps most interesting to Jonathan, however, was the brief flash of sympathy he had spotted in Miss Raven’s face when she had seen his injuries. She had done her best to hide it, denying the kindness of her gesture with the tissue, but he had seen the gentleness in her eyes. Even when regarding someone she clearly felt a cocktail of fear and hatred for, she still had empathy for his suffering.

He could certainly use that to his advantage.

  “If you’re bringing up an escape plan with an officer in the room, then you can’t be as intelligent as you think you are,” Miss Raven commented eventually. The dry humour made Jonathan crack a smile – it was clearly a defence mechanism, but an amusing one.

  “Nothing quite so daring, child,” he explained. “I am willing to co-operate with the imbeciles that apparently pass as ‘doctors’ in here, to follow their treatment plans, and work towards an official release from Arkham.”

To say the young woman was surprised was an understatement. She appeared to be struggling to put a response together, and Officer Cash looked equally taken aback by Jonathan’s admission.

  “Why do you need my help?”

  “Warden Sharp would have me deemed incurable and locked in the Penitentiary sooner rather than later, and to avoid that outcome I need someone on my side to ensure that I am not treated unjustly. Besides your being the only person outside of this asylum who has any motivation to help me, you also seem to be the first person I’ve met who can control Sharp.”

  “You want me to order the Warden about?” The young woman still looked confused, but had straightened up proudly at what Jonathan had intended as a compliment.

  “Not exactly. You would be responsible for making sure that my co-operation isn’t ignored, nor any progress I might make. Once I am released, your debt would be settled.”

  “I don’t owe you anything,” the young woman countered sternly, her expression once again bordering on furious.

Jonathan’s brow furrowed. He was asking considerably little in return for the help he had given Miss Raven – unwittingly or not – and her hostility was irritating.

  “Then you were happy being the Carlton boy’s punching bag?” he offered sourly, immediately regretting his words. His chance at gaining her assistance had dropped significantly, judging by the cold fury on the young woman’s face.

The force behind Miss Raven’s slap was quite astonishing, given her petite build. Jonathan hadn’t seen it coming, and sat in stunned silence for a moment, aware only of the intense sting of his left cheek.

  “Let me make this clear, _Dr_ Crane,” Miss Raven began scornfully, her lip curling sarcastically around Jonathan’s title. “The fact that you attacked Tyler means nothing. You certainly didn’t do it for my benefit. I want nothing to do with you, or this loathsome place. I don’t owe you _shit_.”

The snarl in her words was almost feral, the curse word spat in his face with all the venom she could muster.

Before Jonathan had a chance to say anything in his defence, Miss Raven had opened the door and was demanding the startled Warden walk her out. She stopped for a moment, and turned back to Jonathan, holding his gaze.

  “Enjoy the Penitentiary,” she snapped, and vanished from view in a whirl of pale blue lace.

 

The next morning, when the inmates’ meagre breakfast arrived, Jonathan made sure to catch the eye of the short blonde orderly who delivered his food. He gave a slight but meaningful nod, which the young man returned almost imperceptibly, swallowing nervously.

Any ‘Rogue’ worth his salt in Gotham knew that it paid to have people in your pocket. Some used threats of violence, some used money. But when you had a person’s greatest fears at your command… keeping someone under your thumb was all too easy.

A backup plan had been put in place as soon as Jonathan had begun to consider using Miss Raven to help him get out, and he was sure she would be back very soon to reconsider his offer. He just had to wait.


	6. Nightmares

CHAPTER SIX – NIGHTMARES

  “I’m sorry, you _slapped_ him?” Cass’ face was a picture as Evelyn filled her in on what had gone down at Arkham the other evening. “What in the hell were you _thinking_ , Ev?”

  “I wasn’t thinking, Cass,” Evelyn replied, a little sheepish as she thought through her actions with a clear head. “I’d just had enough, and I snapped.”

  “Don’t you think that might just come back and bite you in the ass?”

  “He’s locked up, Cass. What exactly can he do, besides try and call me again?”

Cass looked far from convinced, but let the subject drop. The Scarecrow didn’t make for great brunch talk.

  “So what happens now?” Cass changed the subject, hoping to cheer up her friend. “Evelyn Raven has the world at her feet – what is she going to do with it?”

  “Not a clue,” Evelyn laughed. “It’s very freeing but a little terrifying too. I’m thinking I might stay with Mom and Dad for a bit and get back into some art projects, get out of my own head some.”

  “Any chance I can commission you something like your auction piece?”

  “Sure, that’d be – shit!” Evelyn cried out as scalding hot coffee splashed into her lap, attracting rather a lot of attention from the rest of the café.

  “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” stammered the blond man whose coffee was now staining Evelyn’s jeans, as he fumbled in his pockets for something to mop up the spill.

  “I’m fine, really, it was an accident,” Evelyn explained, ignoring the fact that Cass was laughing behind her hands. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve got napkins.”

The man rested his hand on Evelyn’s shoulder and gave an apologetic smile.

  “I really am very sorry,” he repeated, before making a very self-conscious retreat.

 

Leaving the coffee house, the blond man felt a squirm of guilt in his stomach. He knew that he had just condemned that poor woman to unimaginable terrors – and after ruining her jeans no less – but there had been no other choice. It was between her and his family.

The small patch he had planted on the young woman’s neck, nearly invisible to anyone not looking for it, was one of Crane’s cleverest and more complex creations. From what the man understood, it worked in much the same way as a nicotine patch, infused with a potent variation of Crane’s serum tailored to work on the parts of the brain associated with sleep and dreaming. The very thought made the blond man shudder.

 

Evelyn lay in bed, staring at the ceiling above her. She felt exhausted, but there was a sense of agitation keeping her awake that she couldn’t place. As if something was watching her. She closed her eyes, trying to ease herself into sleep, but her mind refused to settle.

_After laying in the dark for wat seemed like hours, Evelyn shrugged of her duvet and made her way downstairs, hoping a glass of wine or two might help her drift off. The house was unusually quiet, not even the slightest creak of the wood floors giving away Evelyn’s footsteps._

_The more attention she paid to the strange silence, the heavier and more oppressive it seemed, like a dead weight on Evelyn’s shoulders. She could no longer see the amber haze of a sleepless Gotham through the windows – instead, it was solid black, as if heavy smoke were pressed up against the glass. Even the sliver of light coming through the crack of the kitchen door did little to relieve the darkness. Something was definitely wrong; something that filled Evelyn with a growing sense of unease._

_A shiver across the back of her neck made Evelyn turn to look at the far side of the room. The far corner of the ceiling was somehow even darker than the rest of the room, and the bulk of that darkness seemed almost to be moving and shifting in the faint light. Without warning, the dark mass exploded outwards, revealing itself as a legion of spiders. They moved with alarming speed toward a terrified Evelyn, who turned and ran for the light of the kitchen, her heart rate spiking. She wasted no time in slamming the door shut behind her, desperately trying to get her breathing out of control. There weren’t many creatures that bothered Evelyn, but for some reason spiders made her blood chill and her hands shake._

_“Something wrong, baby?”_

_Evelyn spun round at the unexpected voice, and felt as though the air had been knocked from her lungs._

_Tyler._

_He leant casually against the counter, dressed in a stained Arkham jumpsuit, seemingly staring down at his shoes. He ran a hand through his mattered hair, and then lowered it to carefully caress the handle of a kitchen knife._

_“Surprise, babe,” he muttered coldly, still not lifting his gaze. Evelyn froze in place as Tyler’s fingers wrapped around the knife handle and slid it out of the block with a gentle hiss. He finally looked up to face her, and Evelyn let out a horrified shriek._

_Where Tyler’s eyes should have been were empty sockets, scratched up and bloodied. Evelyn tried to bolt for the other door, but even without being able to see, Tyler was faster. He pinned her against the wall, the blade of his knife a hair’s breadth away from her throat, and grinned._

_The shredded remains of one eyelid twitched suddenly, and from behind the scraps of flesh emerged first one, then a second, third and fourth pair of long, spindly legs. Evelyn watched in transfixed horror, unable to breathe, as the spider pulled itself from Tyler’s ruined eye socket and crawled down his face. When it reached his still-grinning lips, Tyler abruptly pulled it into his mouth with his tongue, and bit down on the creature with a sickening crunch._

_The breath Evelyn had been holding ripped free with an ear-splitting scream, and-_

She sat up suddenly, the same scream still tearing itself from her throat, and found herself back in her bedroom. Still panicking, she threw her covers away and they landed haphazardly on the floor. Looking around frantically, she realised she had been dreaming. There were no spiders, no knife, no Tyler. Her scream dissolved into crying, terrified sobs that shook her whole body.

  “Evelyn! Honey what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” her mother asked fearfully as she burst into the room, hair dishevelled from sleep.

  “Nightmare,” Evelyn choked out between tears. “He was… Tyler was here.”

Her mother sat next to her and held her close as though she was a child again, stroking her hair to soothe her.

  “Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay. You’re safe now. I’ve got you. You want me to stay a while?”

  “No, it’s alright Mom.” Evelyn was already feeling calmer in her mother’s embrace. “You can go back to bed, I’ll be alright. Just… leave the light on?”

  “Of course,” Evelyn’s mother smiled, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “You hang in there, Evelyn. You’ll get through this.”

  “Thanks Mom.”

Once her mother had left, Evelyn tucked herself back in to bed and tried to relax. But every time her eyes began to close, the image of Tyler’s hollow, ruined eyes brought her back to consciousness with a start.

By the time the sky began to turn to the watery blue of dawn, Evelyn had given up on sleeping. Exhausted and weak, she made her way to the bathroom in the hope that a hot bath might do something to ease her discomfort.

 

Evelyn tried to focus on the yellowed, well-thumbed pages of the book in her lap, but her eyelids were growing heavier by the second. It was two in the morning, she was all but burned out, and yet she forced herself to stay awake. Losing herself in _The Hobbit_ was far better than allowing herself to sleep, where she knew she would be met with nothing but terror. It had been over a week since her dreams had first shown her Tyler’s awful, torn up face, and every sleep since had been plagued with fresh horrors. Unease gathered, sour and stagnant, in the pit of Evelyn’s stomach as the words became hazy before her tired eyes – as hard as she tried, she knew that exhaustion would eventually claim her. No amount of distractions or caffeine had succeeded in holding it at bay. Within minutes, Evelyn’s head slumped forward on her chest and her book fell, open, against her ribs.

_She was running, sprinting through the treacherous undergrowth of a dimly lit forest, narrowly avoiding the cunning tree roots and uneven ground that threatened to topple her. Something was gifting her speed and agility beyond her usual abilities – perhaps the flood of adrenaline that set her pulse drumming in her temples – but it was not enough._

_She could hear them advancing behind her, the rustling of their movement growing ever louder. Unable to stop herself, she threw a cautionary glance over her shoulder. A horde of gargantuan spiders scuttled after her, pincers clacking together in a macabre applause, eager for their meal. Evelyn’s fear spiked, searing hot in her chest and bitter cold in her stomach. Eyes held against her will on her pursuers, she failed to notice an oncoming branch. The twisted tendrils whipped across her face, breaking the skin on her cheek, and the sting of the wound drew her attention back to the forest ahead of her. Evelyn’s heart leapt as she spied sanctuary – a stone fortress, just visible between the trees, with its entrance beckoning to her._

_She ran inside without a second thought, gasping at the cold, damp air that greeted her. With a muffled crunch, the fastest of the spiders collided with the entrance, too large and bulky to fit into the tiny space. Unable to slow down in their frenzied pursuit, the others soon piled up behind it, blocking the last of the blue-tinged daylight from outside. Wary of the sudden darkness, Evelyn skidded to a halt, leaning against the icy stone as she tried to catch her breath. The immediate threat was gone, but what now? Cautiously, testing the floor with each step and with one hand planted firmly on the wall, she continued along the narrow corridor. After a moment, a new light began to illuminate the way ahead – orange and flickering, the glow brightened as Evelyn edged slowly onward. The cold withdrew with each step, and as she rounded a corner the corridor opened up into a cavernous hall, lit at the far side by a crackling fire._

_Too focused on the flames, like a dazzled moth, Evelyn didn’t hear the approaching footsteps until it was too late. Strong arms locked around her from behind, and she saw the firelight glint off the polished blade that now hovered near her throat. She stood deathly still, afraid to struggle in case she fell afoul of the knife’s keen edge. Warm air brushed against her cheek as her attacker leant close and a voice whispered in her ear._

_“Quite the brave one, aren’t you, child?”_

_Evelyn’s eyes widened in recognition, but in one swift movement the blade had done its work. She tried to speak, achieving no more than a desperate gurgling noise from her ruined throat. She flailed weakly against her attacker’s unrelenting grip, but soon all she knew was her own blood – filling her lungs, running hot across her skin, draining away-_

Once again Evelyn awoke screaming, this time clutching at her neck to try and stay the phantom bleeding. She gasped hungrily at the cool air, as if she couldn’t pull enough into her burning lungs, tremors wracking her body. Her parents burst into her room and rushed to her side, tearing her hands from her throat and holding her until the shaking subsided.

As her fear ebbed away, Evelyn’s jaw tightened around the revelation on her tongue. Ignoring her parents’ concerned questions, she looked dead ahead and spat out a single word.

  “Scarecrow.”


	7. Agreement

CHAPTER SEVEN – AGREEMENT

  “Do you really have to do this?” Evelyn’s mother pleaded as she watched her daughter pull on a coat, nearly tearing the sleeves in her haste. “You don’t even know for certain that this is anything to do with… _him_.”

  “Oh believe me, I know,” Evelyn replied, jaw tense and eyes manic. The rage that animated her face clashed with the exhausted bruises around her eyes, making her seem wild and almost inhuman.

  “You know I can’t keep on like this, Mom,” Evelyn explained, softening slightly at her mother’s concerned expression. “I need to sleep.”

  “Evelyn, please. You can’t go back there-”

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Any further pleas were lost; Evelyn was already out of the door. The gravel crunched under her tires as she pulled away from the house in the watery morning light. Warden Sharp knew she was coming, and if he tried to get in her way, there was going to be trouble.

 

Miss Raven’s call had woken Sharp at dawn, the fury in her voice startling him to alertness even through the distortion of the phone line. Even with the fog of sleep still lingering in his brain, the Warden’s instincts told him it was best not to deny her demands.

Of all the wretched and twisted people Sharp had come across in his time as Warden, none distilled quite the same fear in him as Miss Evelyn Raven. Unlike the inmates, she was beyond control or containment, and her family held more influence than Sharp could dream of.

He could still hear her voice ringing in his head as he made the short drive to the asylum, and he could picture the fury in her eyes as clear as day.

Miss Raven, it seemed, was out for blood. And Sharp would much rather set her loose on Crane than get himself caught in the line of fire.

 

No more than an hour later, Warden Sharp was fidgeting in his office chair, carefully watching the monitor that showed him the visitor’s entrance. Once all the arrangements had been made to get Crane into an interrogation suite, Sharp had excused himself and left Officer Cash in charge of greeting the young woman. He had no desire to be in her vicinity, curious as he was about what was going on. Very little had been explained over the phone, and Crane had yielded no information at all when Sharp tried to question him. From what he could gather, Crane had somehow had Miss Raven spiked with his toxin, but how and why remained a mystery. Regardless, it was an issue that needed resolving sooner rather than later – and if Miss Raven was keen to sort things out herself, Sharp was in no way inclined to stop her.

He could see the young woman arriving on the screen, visibly furious even in spite of the grainy footage. She hardly waited a second to greet Officer Cash before she stormed off ahead to confront Crane.

 _God help him if she’s right,_ Sharp thought to himself.

 

Crane was stood in restraints when Evelyn entered the room, a guard stationed at his shoulder, seemingly unfazed by his abrupt summons.

  “Good morning, Miss Raven,” he smiled with mock courtesy, watching her carefully.

He wasn’t at all surprised to see her, and the smug expression on his face was all the confirmation that Evelyn needed. Snarling a colourful curse, she threw herself at the tall man, with every intention of clawing out his eyes.

Crane dodged the blow in enough time that she merely knocked the glasses from his face, watching with cool amusement as Cash jumped in to restrain her.

  “Son of a _bitch_!” she screamed as she fought against Cash’s grip, wincing as his hold tightened on her arms.

Evelyn threw out a few more curses before she began to calm down, glaring at Crane as he was handed back his glasses.

  “There’s no need for violence, Miss Raven,” he chided, and Evelyn’s blood boiled.

  “I ought to tear your tongue out through your throat,” she hissed, fighting the urge to try and hurl herself at him again.

Crane stepped toward her, taking full advantage of his height in order to look down at her. His guard shuffled closer, clearly very uneasy.

  “But then we wouldn’t be able to talk, would we?”

Crane took a seat, and gestured to the empty chair across the table from him.

  “Let go of me,” Evelyn ordered, clenching her jaw, and Cash hesitantly released her.

She sat down slowly, heart still pumping adrenaline, and forced herself to look Crane in the eye.

  “You poisoned me, you sick bastard,” Evelyn snarled.

  “You held out far longer than expected, I have to admit,” Crane replied after a moment’s consideration, his voice as level as if he were commenting on the weather. Evelyn knew it was meant to provoke her, and it was working: Crane’s demeanour was running through her last dregs of patience with astonishing speed.

  “I imagined a few days, at most, but I believe we’re pushing a fortnight since we last met, are we not?” Crane continued. “I lose track of time in this place. But it is quite remarkable, don’t get me wrong. Your tenacity is admirable.”

  “Is there an antidote?” Evelyn asked, trying to hide the desperation in her voice. The rage was waning, and in its place, she was starting to feel the full force of her exhaustion.

  “Of course there’s an antidote, Miss Raven – this arrangement would hardly work if you were out of your mind from sleep deprivation.”

  “Arrangement?”

  “You didn’t expect it to be free now, did you? You’re smarter than that, child.”

Evelyn fought back a groan.

  “Is this is about that damned ‘debt’ you think I owe you…” Evelyn began, but Crane silenced her with a raised hand.

  “If you could do me the courtesy of hearing me out before you dismiss me, Miss Raven, I’d be grateful,” he requested politely. “If you are still displeased with my proposition, you may leave… without the antidote, of course.”

Evelyn held her tongue; loathe as she was to bend to Crane’s will in any way, she knew she didn’t have long left if the nightmares continued. She needed that antidote.

  “If I give you the antitoxin, you and I will enter an agreement lasting until I am released from this facility.” Crane’s tone was level, practised, as he listed his terms. “During that time, you will be required to sit in on only my individual therapy sessions – group sessions obviously providing too great a risk to your safety – as well as contributing your honest account of my progress at any review of my case.  If any attempt is made to dismiss my case and have me moved to the Penitentiary, you will do everything in your power to prevent such a course of action.

  “You would also be required to ensure I am given a private cell away from these… _animals_ I am currently housed with. Furthermore, I would insist that you visit once a week in order to reassure me that your best efforts are being applied to the task. These visits will last an hour, during which time we can converse, or not, as you please.

  “I give you my word that once I am released from this facility, the arrangement becomes void and you will no longer be held under any obligation to me, nor will I attempt to contact you further.”

There was a considerable silence in the wake of Crane’s proposal, with the man himself watching Evelyn carefully as she though over his words.

 

Jonathan tried his best to disguise any look of triumph in his eyes. He knew he had Miss Raven in a corner; if she ever wanted any hope of a good night’s sleep again, his offer was her only option. But there was no cause to gloat over such things. At least, not yet.

  “I assume the Warden hasn’t been filled in on your plan yet?” the young woman asked. It was clear she was only delaying the inevitable, and the look on her face told Jonathan that she knew it too.

  “No, not yet,” Jonathan replied. “Of course, you should call him down to discuss the necessary arrangements.”

Cash lifted his radio and sent out the message, clearly unhappy to be taking orders from an inmate.

  “I apologise, Miss Raven, these hired _dogs_ have no manners to speak of. Do you need anything while we wait? A drink of water?”

  “That wouldn’t hurt, actually,” the young woman replied, sheepishly. Cash gave a nod to the other guard, who sighed and made a quick exit.

Jonathan watched Miss Raven closely as they awaited Sharp’s arrival. Her appearance was a far cry from when he had last seen her; she was beginning to look sickly from lack of sleep, and her clothes were dishevelled. Her hair lay heavily on her shoulders, apparently still damp from what had presumably been a hurried shower. Her spirit, however, had retained its vitality. Jonathan hadn’t been lying about her tenacity – it truly was quite astonishing – and he had to admit that he had been caught off guard by her attempt to attack him. He hadn’t expected her to have nearly enough energy left.

That said, whatever adrenaline had been keeping her going was clearly fading now. Her fidgeting hands were slowing down, and her eyes seemed to be fighting to stay open. Fighting to meet his gaze. Jonathan fought a smile – tenacious indeed.

  “I ought to warn you now; the antitoxin may cause a degree of nausea and dizziness,” Jonathan commented, observing her reactions closely.

  “Thanks for the heads up,” Miss Raven responded drily, studying him right back.

Jonathan knew she would glean very little from his expression – he prided himself on his poker face, after all - but years of experience with behavioural analysis meant that the young woman was an open book, especially without the energy to guard her actions.

Her posture, though attempting to appear casual, was defensive; she was leaning back slightly in her chair, trying to put as much distance between the two of them as possible without making a show of it. She repeatedly entwined and parted her fingers, occasionally pulling her sleeves down over her wrists or folding her arms tightly across her body, only to unfold them moments later. It was an obvious indicator of anxiety, but some of it could quite likely be attributed to her recent insomnia. It was something worth monitoring in the coming weeks, once her sleep schedule was back to normal, to see if her anxiety was constant in Jonathan’s presence.

Jonathan’s gaze kept wandering back to Miss Raven’s eyes, as they were to him perhaps the most fascinating element of her demeanour. In colour, they were a rare pale green hue, but even rarer (at least to Jonathan’s mind) was the depth of character they so often revealed. While her posture and fidgeting betrayed her unease, Miss Raven’s gaze was eternally steady, meeting Jonathan’s own with unflinching focus even in spite of her exhaustion. It was unusual for anyone to make voluntary eye contact with Jonathan at the best of times, and yet here was a young woman, with more reason to fear him than most, hardly even blinking. Miss Raven was most likely unaware of it, but manipulations aside, she was quickly earning Jonathan’s respect. He had no patience for the weak-minded.

 

 _Speak of the devil…_ Scarecrow muttered in Jonathan’s ear as the Warden burst into the room, red-faced and flustered. He glanced furtively between inmate and visitor, and Jonathan was amused to note that he seemed to be equally afraid of the both of them.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, shouting in a feeble attempt to mask his unease. “What makes you think you have the right to strike bargains behind my back, Crane?”

  “That’s _Dr_ Crane, if you’d be so kind,” Jonathan corrected automatically, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “And you’ll excuse me for wanting to discuss important business with someone of actual intellect,” he added spitefully. It had been less than a minute since the Warden had arrived, and already he was giving Jonathan a headache.

Before the Warden had a chance to rise to Jonathan’s taunts, Miss Raven stood up and positioned herself between the two men. It was the first time since she’d entered the room that she’d actually broken eye contact with Jonathan, and he watched her carefully.

  “Warden Sharp, as much as you don’t like the idea, I can promise you I like it even less,” she began. “But I’m asking you to allow the terms of Crane’s proposition.”

Jonathan noted the omission of his title, and wondered if it was deliberate or not.

  “Miss Raven, I have allowed you _two_ visits against protocol already, but I am not going to cater to your every whim. I don’t take orders from you.”

  “I wasn’t giving orders, I was making a request,” Miss Raven explained slowly. "This isn’t a whim, Mr Sharp – I have no other choice.” She threw a pointed glare over her shoulder at Jonathan, who merely smiled in response.

  “Do I have your word that, if I agree to this, I’m free of repercussions if the Warden’s actions prevent me from holding up my end of the bargain?” she asked Jonathan, her tone civil but her eyes cold.

  “Naturally,” he replied honestly. “As long as you’re making every effort, I won’t hold you accountable for the Warden’s incompetence.”

Seemingly satisfied with the answer, the young woman turned back to the Warden.

  “If it takes financial compensation to sway you, then fine,” she explained with an acidic tone. “If I have to fight my way past security every god damned day until this is over, then I’m prepared to do that too. With all due respect, Warden Sharp, _you_ don’t get to decide whether or not I go insane from this toxin. Now are you going to cooperate, or not?”

The Warden’s foolish pride and meagre common sense appeared to battle it out for a moment, sweat beading on his forehead, before he let out a defeated sigh.

  “Very well. But you will be required to pay for the private cell – I’m not giving it to _him_ for free.”

  “Fine.”

  “I will have an itemised bill sent to you within the week, and a schedule of Crane’s appointments. Goodbye.”

 

Evelyn watched the blustering man leave the room, failing to miss his remark about the “absolutely outrageous idea, stupid girl”.

She turned quickly back to Crane, having been very uncomfortable having the man out of her sight, and jumped a little when she found him stood directly behind her, one hand stretched out awkwardly from his cuffs.

  “A deal, then?”

Making sure he didn’t miss the anger in her face, Evelyn reluctantly accepted the handshake. Crane’s fingers were just as icy as they had been before, and Evelyn gave her best shot at crushing them before she abruptly let go. To her irritation, Crane gave a short laugh.

  “The antidote?” she demanded.

  “Inside my mattress. There’s a hole on the underside, you’ll find the syringe there; the dosage is already measured out, no need for anyone to meddle with it. Be sure to get in touch if you notice any side effects beyond the ones I mentioned. A pleasure doing business with you, Miss Raven.”

  “The pleasure was all mine, _Dr_ Crane,” she replied, her words dripping sarcasm.

Crane’s mouth twitched with amusement, and he bade Evelyn goodbye as he was led away.

  “I look forward to seeing you again.”


	8. Carlton

CHAPTER EIGHT – CARLTON

 

Evelyn was less than pleased when she finally arrived back home, rubbing at the point in the crook of her elbow where Crane’s antidote had been injected. He hadn’t been wrong about the nausea and dizziness; Evelyn felt on the verge of toppling over, throwing up, or both. Add that to her growing exhaustion, and it took both her parents to guide her upstairs, where she collapsed unceremoniously onto her bed, still fully dressed. Within seconds, she was deep in a heavy and – at last – dreamless sleep.

 

She slept the rest of the day away, and through to the next afternoon. When she finally awoke, she was still dizzy from the antidote, but felt better than she had in weeks. But her newly-found good mood only lasted until she came downstairs to find a large brown envelope waiting for her, bearing the Arkham insignia.

Inside she found a bill for Crane’s new cell, a copy of his schedule, and a note from Warden Sharp. According to the schedule, she would be sitting in on sessions every Monday and Wednesday, and spending an hour ‘visiting’ every Saturday morning. The schedule covered the next two months, and a footnote assured Evelyn that this was only ‘ _preliminary schedule, subject to extension on grounds of any developments with Patient 29476-JC’s case_ ’.

Evelyn shook her head at the use of the patient number; while she hated Crane as much as the next person, the dehumanisation made her uncomfortable. Frowning, she turned onto the Warden’s note.

 

_Miss Raven,_

_I have enclosed a schedule of Crane’s appointment dates and allotted visiting hours as agreed. It has been arranged for your attendance at these sessions to begin next Monday, and I ask that you call ahead if illness or other circumstances prevent you attending. Please note that I can’t guarantee whether Crane will consider any excuses sufficient._

_I should like to take this opportunity to point out that, while I have agreed to allow this arrangement of yours, I will revoke your privileges without warning if I feel your presence around Crane puts anyone at risk. I do not appreciate ‘fans’ of our inmates having access to the facility, and I am reluctant to allow the chance of another Harley Quinn situation._

_As such, all your time at Arkham will be monitored and recorded, and you will require a minimum of one staff member – a security officer, doctor or orderly – with you at all times. We ask that you check your bag in at the front desk each time you attend for safety purposes._

_Any further requests or queries must go through me._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Warden Q. Sharp._

 

Evelyn scoffed at the tone of the letter and threw it down on the table. Accusing her of being a ‘fan’ of Crane? The Warden was either stupid, spiteful, or both. And that Harley Quinn comment – the nerve of him! Evelyn made a mental note to have a word or two next time she saw him.

  “Bad news?”

Evelyn jumped a little; she hadn’t heard her father enter.

  “It’s my schedule for the… arrangement,” Evelyn explained. “My so-called ‘privileges’ start up on Monday.”

  “And you really have to go? No way out of it?”

Evelyn hated the look of concern on her father’s face. She felt certain that he’d take her place in an instant if he could.

  “It’s better than the alternative,” Evelyn offered, knowing it was hardly a comfort. “If I refuse, one of his people would get to me. And I can’t go through that again.”

  “Well just remember we’re always here if you need something, Eve. And be careful.”

  “I will, Dad.”

Evelyn’s father opened his arms, and she grateful accepted his hug. He held n tight, reluctant to let her go, and Evelyn felt another twist of guilt in her stomach.

She hated to put her parents through so much worry, first with the whole Tyler situation and now with Crane. To see her suffering from such intense nightmares, to find her screaming and clawing at her face in the middle of the night, and then to only be free of it on the condition that their daughter spend three days a week visiting a dangerous criminal in an asylum… it was too much. But she knew there was nothing they could do. No way around it.

Withdrawing from her father’s embrace, Evelyn forced herself to take a slow, deep breath. It was no use dwelling on the futility of her situation – she had to focus on taking care of herself as she fulfilled her side of Crane’s bargain. The thought of Monday’s session loomed heavy and oppressive, but for the moment she had a few days to rest up and gather her strength, before she headed back into the belly of the beast.

 

Jonathan waited patiently in his cell, picking absentmindedly at a loose tread of his Arkham uniform as the clock ticked its way closer to his session time. He had already had a couple of assessments with his new doctor, a woman by the name of Jennings, and he wasn’t keen. She had only been assigned to Jonathan’s case since his latest incarceration, and while she at least seemed closer to competency than his previous doctors, her persistent attempts at building a friendly rapport had started to get under Jonathan’s skin. Fortunately, today’s session would come with the welcome addition of Miss Raven. Yes, he had agreed to be more open and forthcoming in sessions, which would mean having to deal with more of Jennings’ prying questions and irritating attempts at trust-building, but he had at least the distraction of observing Miss Raven’s reactions.

_Think the doc will be intrigued by your new little friend?_ Scarecrow jeered; his voice sounded as though it were hissing directly into Jonathan’s right ear.

  “Possibly, though I don’t recall asking for your input,” Jonathan shot back, realising a fraction too late that he was speaking aloud.

  “And they say _I’m_ mad,” Edward Nygma quipped from his cell. “At least I don’t go around talking to myself, Jon.”

Jonathan gave a weary sigh.

  “For the last time, Nygma, Scarecrow and I are not the same person.”

  “If you say so, Jon,” came the derisive response. “You’re the expert, after all,” he added mockingly.

Jonathan refused to rise to Nygma’s taunt, especially when he heard Officer Cash’s familiar, heavy footfall approaching. While the Officer certainly didn’t hide his dislike of Jonathan, even he was better company than the members of the so-called Rogues’ Gallery.

In the spirit of his new cooperation with treatment, Jonathan put in more effort than usual to hide his discomfort as he was locked into the tight restraints, both he and Cash ignoring the array of taunts and insults being thrown their way. That said, it was hard to miss Nygma’s parting words as Jonathan was led away to his session.

  “Have fun with your new puzzle, Jon!”

As much as Jonathan was irritated by the interest the other Rogues were showing in his business with the young Miss Raven, Nygma wasn’t altogether wrong. The woman was indeed a puzzle, and one Jonathan was keen to unravel.

 

When they arrived at Dr Jennings’ office, the object of Jonathan’s intrigue was sat in an armchair to one side of the room, still exhibiting the same nervous fidgeting behaviours as when they had last met. She seemed more alert – likely the result of now longer being on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion – but still had a sickly pallor to her skin.

  “Good morning, Miss Raven,” Jonathan greeted. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I’ve got a combination of seasick and a hangover, thanks to your antidote,” she replied sharply. “I wasn’t expecting the side effects to last almost a week.”

Jonathan frowned, a little surprised himself. On a brief visual examination, he realised what had happened. Underneath her loose-fitting clothes, Miss Raven appeared considerably more underweight than he had realised, meaning his dosage calculation had been slightly off. Not one to eagerly admit his mistakes out loud, Jonathan simply apologised and took his seat.

  “Now, if we can get started?” Dr Jennings shuffled her notes pointedly, eager to get the session back in focus. “It was my intention today to discuss the event that led to your current incarceration, Jonathan, but in light of Miss Raven’s attendance perhaps we’re better discussing something else?”

Before Jonathan could point out that no, Dr Jennings should continue as normal, Miss Raven cut in herself.

  “Don’t change anything on account of me, Doctor,” she insisted, jaw tight. “I’m here to observe, not interfere. I’d probably have to hear it eventually anyway,” she added, and swallowed hard.

Jonathan noticed then that the young woman had dragged the small trash can over to her feet – her nausea was clearly still quite strong. It wasn’t an ideal situation; for one thing, her discomfort was likely to skew the results of Jonathan’s observations, and for another, she was not yet feeling the full relief of the antitoxin, something Jonathan had been hoping would lessen her hostility towards him. Perhaps, he mused, it would be better to allow her a little more recovery time…

  “Jonathan?” Dr Jennings was looking at him expectantly, and Jonathan realised that she had likely asked him a question while his mind had been elsewhere.

  “I’m sorry, say that again?”

  “I asked about your choice to perform one of your ‘experiments’ on Mr Carlton that night.”

  “The use of Carlton specifically as a test subject was not planned,” Jonathan explained, a little irritated by the doctor’s dismissive tone. “I usually prefer more controlled conditions and less… intellectually stunted test subjects. I only administered the serum – a new aerosolised formula – as a means of self-defence.”

  “Self-defence?” Dr Jennings prompted.

Jonathan glanced over at Miss Raven, who was showing no sign of surprise at the news.

_Well of course she’s not surprised, stupid,_ Scarecrow sneered. _Your little friend there knew better than anyone what a brute that worthless pig could be._

  “The Carlton boy was drunk when I crossed his path,” Jonathan continued, trying to ignore his constant companion. “He grabbed at my arm, nearly tore my coat, so I attempted to push him away. At which point be became very aggressive and hostile, and tried to throw a punch at me. He missed, but clearly had no intention of backing down, so I used the most efficient method I had to end the altercation.”

  “You didn’t consider just walking away?”

  “Of course, I considered it,” Jonathan answered, annoyed at the doctor’s condescension. “It just wasn’t a viable option. Mr Carlton’s rather choice language made it clear that he wasn’t going to let things go.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jonathan noticed that Miss Raven’s hands had curled into fists, though whether that was a matter of anger towards the Carlton boy or some worsening discomfort, he couldn’t say.

  “Miss Raven, are you feeling alright?” Dr Jennings asked – she had noticed it too. The young woman gave a brief nod in way of a reply, but her eyes were fixed firmly on the floor. She waved her hand to indicate that the doctor ought to continue.

  “So, did you stay to observe the effects of the serum?”

  “You know I did – the fact that I lingered is what led to my arrest,” Jonathan answered bitterly. “But all test subjects are worth studying, especially with newly developed formulas like the one I had used. With it being one of the most fast-acting, I thought I had time. Although apparently I should have been more careful.”

  “Did you learn anything?”

  “That I had been successful with the new formula – intense effects that set in within a minute and last no more than five. Handy for observing the effect of severe but acute fear responses.”

_And also for quick getaways,_ Scarecrow added.

  “It was only later that I realised the after effects were decidedly more significant and long-lived than initially expected.”

Remembering a detail of Carlton’s response, Jonathan turned to face Miss Raven, who recoiled slightly in her seat.

  “Do you by any chance know if the hospitals ran any kind of toxicology screening on Mr Carlton? I suspect that the long-term effects may have resulted form the serum interacting with the alcohol and possibly other drugs.”

  “I… don’t know exactly what he was on,” Miss Raven answered, her voice unsteady. “He was definitely drunk though, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was high as well. He’d take recreational stuff quite often.”

  “I see. And do you know if he had any specific animal phobias at all? Perhaps insects or spiders?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I think we’re getting a little off topic here, Jonathan,” Dr Jennings warned, but Jonathan ignored her.

  “I only ask because of his reaction to the serum – he kept batting and clawing at himself, yelling something to the effect of ‘get them off’. I think if the hallucinations had continued much longer, he might have scratched through his own skin trying to keep whatever it was at bay. The hallucinations can be very vivid.”

  “I’m fully aware,” Miss Raven pointed out, her voice icy.

  “Yes, of course. But do you know if he had any specific phobias?”

  “Not that I can think of.”

  “No issues with insects or the like at all? It’s quite a common phobia to have. One of my test subjects had an issue with millipedes especially; while under the serum’s effects he claimed he could feel them eating their way into his eyes. I imagine it was quite-”

Jonathan’s musings were cut off as Miss Raven grabbed the trash can off the floor and contorted over it as she retched emptily. After a few moments of choking and coughing, she collapsed back in her chair, her skin clammy and breathing ragged.

_Think the millipede thing was a bit too much?_ Scarecrow laughed cruelly. _Looks like your little friend hasn’t got the stomach for this._

  “Alright, I think that’s enough for today,” Dr Jennings announced, getting to her feet to attend to Miss Raven. “If we can try and keep _on topic_ next time, Jonathan?”

  “Of course; my apologies Miss Raven.”

For the first time that day, the young woman met Jonathan’s eyes with her usual steely gaze.

  “This is nothing to do with your little anecdotes,” she spat out defensively. “Believe me, I’ve seen and heard worse before. It’s just the vertigo from the antitoxin.”

Jonathan couldn’t help a smile – Miss Raven was still tenacious as ever.

  “Either way, I think it’s time you went home,” Dr Jennings insisted. “Perhaps Jonathan would be kind enough to let you remain out of sessions until you’re feeling better?”

It was phrased as a question, but to give the doctor her dues, the tone made it clear that she considered it non-negotiable. She sounded rather like a strict schoolteacher.

  “Naturally,” Jonathan replied. “Unfortunately, Miss Raven, I have to advise against anti-nausea medications, but I suggest lots of fluids and rest. If this hasn’t subsided by our Saturday appointment, do let me know and I may have to recommend some tests.”

With a small nod of acknowledgement, Miss Raven got to her feet and, using Dr Jennings for balance, made her way to the door. Cash was waiting outside to escort Jonathan back to the cell block.

  “That reminds me,” Jonathan thought aloud. “One more thing, Miss Raven, before you leave. I understand you’re feeling unwell but if you could try and arrange my private cell as soon as possible, as per our agreement? The less time I have to spend with the _animals_ in my current cell block, the better.”

  “I’ve paid the Warden already, he should be sorting it out,” Miss Raven explained, clearly a little confused. “I’ll remind him.”

  “My thanks, Miss Raven. I hope you feel better soon.”

Jonathan watched as Dr Jennings walked the young woman away. He doubted she believed it, but he did genuinely wish for her speedy recovery. After all, their arrangement was hardly going to work if Miss Raven was too ill to attend sessions.

_You sure you’ve picked the right person for your ridiculous little plan?_ Scarecrow mocked. _She seems awfully… fragile_ , he added with a malicious glee.

No, Jonathan thought to himself. Miss Raven was the right choice.

He just had to be patient.


End file.
